


Comfort Food

by AwkwardPotatoChild



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Breakfast, Cooking, Drinking & Talking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Humor, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Self-Acceptance, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23950105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardPotatoChild/pseuds/AwkwardPotatoChild
Summary: McCree always thought Hanzo was a man of refined taste.Looks like he was wrong.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 17
Kudos: 145





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to just be a short and dumb fic about a dumb hc I had, and somehow, it turned into... _this_.
> 
> Oh well.  
> Hope y'all enjoy this mess. Let me know if there are any mistakes.

It wasn’t uncommon for McCree and Hanzo to run into each other in the middle of the night.

Insomnia was how their slow friendship started. When Hanzo first arrived at Gibraltar, the man was practically a ghost, never seen nor heard from by anyone. The only reason they knew he existed was because Genji had introduced him when he first arrived, but after that, his presence was non-existent outside of missions, even to the brother that brought him here.

But one night, when McCree’s thoughts got a little too loud, he wandered up his usual path to the roof to smoke, only to find a yellow scarf glimmering in the wind. He’d never forget the startled look in Hanzo’s eyes as he hurriedly got up and mumbled a gruft apology before getting ready to leap over the railing. McCree all but sprinted over, nearly throwing himself over the railing himself, if it weren’t for Hanzo’s quick reflexes. After thanking him for saving his dumb ass, McCree assured him it would be alright for him to stay, but Hanzo only stared at him briefly before disappearing into the darkness again. He had thought about mentioning it to Genji, but thought better of it, worried that it might push the archer even further away.

A few nights later, McCree was back on the roof, cigarillos in hand, when he felt a breeze pick up behind him. Turning around, he caught a flash of gold before it settled down a few feet away from him. Hanzo didn’t turn to meet his wide eyes, but he didn’t doubt that the man knew he was confused by his presence. He simply nodded though and turned back to his previous task. Neither of them said anything, but when McCree bid Hanzo a good night, he could’ve sworn he heard him return the greeting as well.

A few more nights and McCree found himself in the kitchen instead, pilfering through the cabinets for the spare bottle of whiskey he kept hidden there. Finding his loot, he headed over to the dining area, ready to indulge, but paused when he saw a hunched over form in the back corner table. His eyes were immediately drawn to the spot of gold illuminated by the moonlight through the window. It took a moment for McCree to register the fact that Hanzo was actually inside the Watchpoint for once and thought about turning around, so the man could have his peace. But he soon realized that he hadn’t exactly kept quiet on his way over here, so Hanzo could have easily left before his arrival. Instead, he held up his own bottle to which Hanzo held up his flask of sake before he sat down across from him. They drank in silence before McCree decided to offer up some of his own whiskey. He saw Hanzo hesitate at first, but with another firm nod, he accepted, taking a tentative sip. His expression gave nothing away as he nodded and returned the bottle. McCree would never forget what he said afterwards.

“It tastes like shit.”

The mixture of the blunt comment along with the fact that this was the first time either of them had spoken before had McCree snorting with laughter. He remembered Hanzo trying to get up and leave, but being drunk and bold, McCree tugged him back down, even though he now realized how foolish the action was. Luckily, Hanzo didn’t make him regret it and he sat back down, offering his apologies. McCree thought nothing of it, reassuring him that he knew it wasn’t the best, hence why it was his back-up bottle for when he got real desperate. Hanzo only nodded in understanding before offering up his sake to McCree.

“It is not the best either, but it is better than the piss water you’ve been drinking.”

McCree gladly accepted the offer. He told Hanzo that it wasn’t half bad to which the archer had sat a little bit straighter, a little bit taller, but in all honesty, McCree couldn’t tell if it was actually good or if it was because of the company. The two of them drank, idly chatting about irrelevant things well into the night before retiring to their quarters.

From there, the late night visits, not just to the roof and kitchen, but occasionally to the shooting range, became more common, more words were exchanged.

When Hanzo had first arrived, McCree was well-aware of who he was and what he had done to Genji. He wasn’t going to deny the fact that he was wary of the man to begin with, but he also knew he had no right to judge either. So while some of the others had been more vocal about their displeasure at the archer’s presence, McCree did his best to give him a clean slate since Genji was willing to give him one and because he had been given one years ago as well.

But after nearly a month and a half of these late nights, McCree was proud to say that Hanzo was his friend. He still carried a lot of weight on his heart, but he was slowly learning to forgive himself, slowly accepting that he deserved to be happy. It was actually a few days after their first night of drinking that Hanzo appeared at breakfast to the surprise of everyone, besides himself, and it only shocked them even more when he walked over and sat down across from him. McCree bid him a good morning and smiled. Hanzo only nodded, but he could see the slight rise of his lips before they silently ate their food. His presence around the base became more prevalent after that. He was willing to talk to others more often. He didn’t run at the first sight of Genji. He started showing up to the group events Lena put together. It wasn’t long before Hanzo found his place among the team and at the Watchpoint, no longer a ghost, but a friend.

Though Hanzo was more comfortable now, the ever present insomnia still lingered and their late nights remained. It was still shit, but it was also nice for the two of them to be by themselves, with or without words. So when McCree saw Hanzo in the kitchen at one in the morning, he wasn’t surprised.

What did surprise him was the sight of what Hanzo was doing.

Perched on the counter, hair loose and legs swinging slightly, Hanzo sat stiffly as he dipped something into a bowl and took a bite of it. He gave a nod in greeting, but said nothing more.

“Hey there,” McCree greeted. “Can’t sleep again?”

Hanzo only snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to eating. McCree chuckled as well, grabbing himself a glass of water before joining Hanzo on the counter. He said nothing as he drank, but his calm expression changed when he finally took note of what exactly Hanzo was eating. In his right hand was a hot dog that McCree couldn’t tell was warmed up or not. The bowl he was dipping it in had a half-melted yellow mass that looked more like plastic than real food and the smell of it was interesting to say the least. McCree’s brow furrowed in confusion and a bit of disgust as he looked between the items in Hanzo’s hands and Hanzo’s own casual expression.

“What the hell are you eating?”

“Fondue.”

“Umm…” McCree looked down at the bowl and back at Hanzo. The man was serious. “I know I may look like an uneducated country bumpkin, but I know what fondue looks like and I know what it doesn’t look like. That looks nothin’ like fondue, Han.”

“I know.” He took another bite. “It is what I call it though.”

“Right…” McCree sipped his water and eyed his friend. No change in Hanzo’s expression. “What the hell even is it then?”

“Microwaved spray cheese and hot dogs.”

“I’m sorry, but that don’t sound good at all.”

Hanzo shrugged. “It is not the worst thing I have eaten.”

“Well, why the hell are you eatin’ it then? We got better things here.” McCree gestured to the fridge. “I could cook up somethin’ for ya. You know I make a mean omelette. Be done real quick, if you want.”

Hanzo’s nose scrunched up as he contemplated the offer, but he then shook his head. He was silent again before letting out a soft sigh. He set the hot dog down and glanced at the bowl in his hand, playing with the edge of it.

“No, it isn’t necessarily that I am not aware of the fact that we have plenty of food, but rather.” He huffed again and looked up at McCree. “Is it strange to say that I missed it?”

“What do you mean?”

“After I…” He didn’t have to say for McCree to know exactly what he was referring to. “I left the clan and was forced to live my life on the run, due the assassins that they sent after me. Growing up privileged and sheltered, while my palette is refined, I did not have the skills or the money to provide myself with the same lifestyle that I had grown up with. Because of this, my food options were,” he held up the bowl, “not exactly optimal, but I did what I could to get by.” Hanzo paused for a moment, lost in thought. A look of nostalgia was paired with a slight smile. “It was not the best, but I did eventually learn how to cook a few simple things on my own. When I came here though, I was thankful to have regular healthy meals again, but sometimes, I find myself oddly missing it.”

“Like tonight?”

“Like tonight.” Hanzo grabbed some crackers that McCree had missed before and was now using them to poke at the half-hardened cheese. “I truly do not know why. I hated having to eat all of these horrible, overly processed foods back then, but at the same time, there were days where being able to buy some powdered donuts was a treat.”

“Yeah, I get ya. I totally get ya.” McCree nodded, now lost in his own memories as well. “Reminds me of when I first joined Overwatch. I was so damn happy that I had my own room and bed and everythin’. No more sharin’ or sleepin’ on floors or bein’ crammed like sardines for McCree! No, sir!” He chuckled and shook his head. “But then a few days after that, it felt so weird, I ended up sleepin’ on the floor. Bed was too uncomfortable. Not like, it was bad or anythin’ like that, but it was too comfortable for me and I was too used to sleepin’ on the ground, y’know? Even thought about askin’ if I could sleep on Reyes’ floor, so I could have someone else around. Didn’t do that, of course, but the fact that I even thought about it made me wonder sometimes.”

Hanzo hummed. “That first night we ran into each other on the roof, I had actually been sleeping up there. It wasn’t cold enough in the room and the air was too still. Opening the window was not the same.”

McCree nodded in understanding and finished up the rest of his water. He made no move to get up, wanting to ruminate on his thoughts a little longer. A quick glance over at Hanzo told him that he was doing the same as well.

“Why do you think it is so hard for us to accept?” Hanzo finally asked. He looked up at McCree. “Why do you think we are so unused to basic necessities? I feel as if it should be simple.”

McCree let out a deep breath and set aside his glass. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pondered for a moment before answering.

“Well, the easy answer would be like you said, we just ain’t used to it.” Hanzo nodded beside him. “After so long of living one way, switchin’ to another so fast takes some time and adjustin’. That ain’t surprisin’.” He paused, scratching at his beard. “But it also might not be so simple. Maybe we don’t think we deserve it. Maybe it all feels like too much. You get so used to havin’ nothing’ or havin’ everythin’ taken from you that when you finally got something, it don’t feel right. But just because we got used to livin’ like shit, don’t mean we deserve it.”

Hanzo stared at his food as if studying it. He took a few more extra bites, nose scrunched up, before getting down from the counter to clean it up. McCree watched as he did so, the only interaction between them being when Hanzo held his hand out for McCree’s cup and McCree handed it over. Once finished, he made his way over to one of the cabinets, pulling out McCree’s hidden bottle of whiskey, and poured them both a drink before returning to his place next to the cowboy.

“Much obliged,” said McCree, taking a sip from his own glass. Hanzo, on the other hand, threw his drink back swiftly, causing McCree to snort and shake his head. Hanzo shot him a quick glare, but said nothing about it. His expression suddenly grew serious again.

“I think you are correct,” he said. “Your more complicated answer, I mean. I think you are right in saying that because we have grown used to the worst of conditions, we wonder if we even deserve any better. But I also cannot help but wonder if maybe I deserve the worst of things to begin with.”

“Hanzo-”

“I know.” Hanzo held up a hand to stop him. “I know,” he repeated, shoulders falling as he let out a heavy sigh. “We have had this conversation before. I know that Genji has forgiven me and that all of you have accepted me. I know that I am working towards becoming better and that my past does not make me any less worthy of forgiveness, especially from myself.” His eyes were heavy with guilt and hesitancy when he looked up at McCree. “But it is still hard to accept.”

Hanzo leaned away to reach for the bottle of whiskey. He poured him another glass and shot that back as well.

“I am working on it, but it is difficult,” he continued, “and I worry if I will ever be able to forgive myself.”

McCree took a sip from his own glass before speaking. “You will. It’ll take time, but you will.”

“And how are you so sure, McCree?”

“Cause the fact that you decided to stay here shows that you’re willin’ to try and help yourself, the fact that you decided to keep goin’ shows that you know this ain’t the end.” McCree reached over and placed a firm hand on Hanzo’s shoulder. “I haven’t known you long, but I know you’re one stubborn son of a bitch, so y’ain’t gonna just up and quit like that. And even if you did, I ain’t gonna let ya. Genji ain’t gonna let ya. No one here is gonna let ya give up on yourself, Hanzo. Y’ain’t alone in all o’ this and one day, not sure when, but one day, you’re gonna finally be able to realize that you deserve to be forgiven too, that you deserve to be happy. Okay?”

“Okay,” nodded Hanzo. He gave a small smile, gratitude replacing his previous worry. “Thank you, McCree.”

“You’re welcome, partner.”

McCree smiled and finished off the rest of his whiskey. This time, he got off the counter and cleaned up after himself and Hanzo.

“On a happier note,” he said as he washed the glasses, “you got any other special recipes you came up with? Cause it’s hard to believe the man that called my whiskey “piss water” also enjoys melted spray cheese and gas station hot dogs.”

McCree glances behind him to see Hanzo staring up at the ceiling, lips pursed in concentration. His legs were still swinging, likely unknowingly, and the sight made McCree smile. It was clear some of his burden had lessened.

“I used to mix instant rice or rice cereal, if I could not find real rice, with canned tuna and dip it into mustard. It was the closest I could get to sushi.”

McCree choked and spun around immediately. “Okay, now  _ that _ sounds like shit.”

Hanzo scoffed. “It was not that bad.”

“You know damn well,” McCree made sure to turn around and point as he said this, “that if we were swapped and I just told you that I made that monstrosity and called it sushi, you wouldn’t hesitate to stab me and call it a public service.”

“I probably shouldn’t tell you about my charcuterie recipe then,” chuckled Hanzo.

“Okay, well, now I’m curious.” McCree turned around and leaned against the counter as he dried his hands. “So you might as well spit it out.”

Hanzo had the decency to look away sheepishly this time. “It was just Slim Jims, any jerky I could find, and Spam on a plate.”

“Oh, come on, Han!”

“But! When I was feeling more refined, I would spend some extra money on sliced cheese and wrap it around whatever I had.”

McCree groaned, dramatically throwing up his hands, and Hanzo couldn’t help but laugh. Arms crossed, McCree did his best to imitate the number of disappointed head shakes Morrison would give him and sighed.

“Can’t believe I actually thought you were all champagne and caviar. I know better than to trust you now.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes, returning back to his usual regal state. “I still am,” he countered. “I just happen to have other sides to me as well. Much like how along with being a cowboy, you are also a fool.”

This time, McCree’s stern expression was real and he shot a glare at the archer. Hanzo appeared innocent enough, but there was the tell-tale sign of him trying to keep from smirking on his face.

“Ha ha. Thanks.”

“But even though you are foolish sometimes, you can also be quite wise as well,” he continued. He smiled openly this time. “Thank you again, McCree,” came the gentle words.

McCree’s expression softened. “Of course.” He looked towards the clock on the microwave and pushed himself away from where he was leaning. He gestured to the door. “You headin’ to bed? I’ll walk with ya.”

“No,” Hanzo replied as he shook his head, “I think I will stay up a little longer, but thank you for the offer.”

“Alright. Don’t stay up too late, ya hear? I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

“Likewise.”

McCree gave Hanzo one last wave and Hanzo did the same. The walk back to his quarters was silent, like always. When he arrived, he half-expected the insomnia to still be present, but to his surprise, he was able to sleep comfortably until the morning came. A glance at his clock told him it was earlier than he thought it was, yet he still felt well-rested. For a moment, he contemplated just lazing about in bed, when a better idea came to mind and he made his way to the kitchen to get started on some breakfast. McCree knew Hanzo was an earlier rise, so when he heard near silent footsteps approaching him, he didn’t have to turn away from the stove to know who it was.

“‘Mornin’, Han” he greeted. “You sleep alright?”

“I did. Thank you for asking.” Hanzo walked over and began preparing his morning cup of tea. “And yourself?”

“Just great. Even got up early enough to make you some breakfast.”

McCree pointed to the pancakes he was working on with his spatula. Hanzo moved over to place his kettle on the stove. He looked down at the pan and hummed contently.

“Oh? Thank you, McCree. You didn’t ha-”

McCree bit his lip to stifle his laughter. He knew Hanzo had just caught sight of the special breakfast that he had already made for him and had set aside on the counter as he finished up the rest of their breakfast.

“I see you were correct on more than one thing last night, McCree,” came Hanzo’s low voice. “I definitely should stab you.”

McCree finally let himself laugh and looked over to see Hanzo glaring at him with an unamused look. He held up the plate of poorly formed rice balls and canned tuna, raising an eyebrow to silently ask if McCree was serious or not. He quickly removed the finished pancake before turning to fully face Hanzo. He removed his hat from his head, holding it over his heart, and pulled his best sad puppy impression.

“Hanzo, are you tellin’ me you don’t wanna eat my cooking?” he asked. “After all the time and effort I put into it for ya?”

Hanzo rolled his eyes. “I never said that,” he sighed. He stared down at the food, poking at it. At first glance, he appeared to be scowling, but McCree knew him better than that. He caught sight of the slight upturn of his lip when he finally looked back up. “I will eat it, if only so the food will not go to waste and not for any other reason.”

“Uh huh. Sure thing, darlin’.”

Hanzo huffed and turned away, walking towards a table for the two of them. He set the plate down and went back to grab the rest of their breakfast, beginning to set the table for the two of them. McCree went back to finishing the rest of their pancakes, when Hanzo came up beside him again as the kettle whistled. He said nothing as he poured the hot water into his mug and for a moment, McCree wondered if he had overstepped, but the mumbled words that followed reassured him of all of the progress they had made.

“Thank you.”

Hanzo returned to the table before McCree could say anything back, but in truth, he didn’t need to. He finished cooking shortly after and brought over a plate of pancakes for them. They ate silence, but one filled with comfort. McCree would argue that his pancakes were the best in the world, but nothing compared to how full he felt when he saw Hanzo eating without any trace of guilt or worries, simply enjoying the peace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this!  
> If you enjoyed what you read, it would be greatly appreciated if you could reblog or like this fic's corresponding tumblr post, found [here.](https://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/post/616937621954887681/comfort-food)
> 
> [dangcommaannie.tumblr.com](http://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/)   
>  [Updates](http://dangcommaannie.tumblr.com/tagged/annie-writes-updates)


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